


If You Think That a Kiss is All in the Lips

by RurouniHime



Series: Doorbell series [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Humor, Confessions, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:50:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/372194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RurouniHime/pseuds/RurouniHime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing is, Jared’s still kind of in the closet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Think That a Kiss is All in the Lips

**Author's Note:**

> None of these people belong to me, nor have they ever done any of this, to my knowledge. I also don’t make money off of this. I have included picture links within the text to give you a feel for the area. None of the pictures belong to me. Title borrowed from The Denial Twist by The White Stripes.

It isn’t the way Jared spends most mornings. 

Well, okay, it sort of is. He does usually get up at butt-ugly o’clock and brave the outdoors just for the privilege of slapping his feet repeatedly against pavement. He’s into Ultimate: there is no faster way to fall out of shape than to skip his daily runs. He knows, he’s tried it.

But for the longest time, he never had any particular place to go when he ran. To tell the truth, it kind of feels good, because now he can tell the people who ask— because he runs into _so_ many people at this hour on a Saturday— that he’s not out prancing around aimlessly. There’s a goal here. It’s been the same goal for over five months (and didn’t Jared feel like a stalker for jogging by this specific building morning after morning, tracing those specific windows with his eyes as he passed, trying to figure out which one housed the hottest, smartest, most talented guy he’d ever met in his young life, all the time knowing that the twinge in his gut had to do with the embarrassment he’d feel if he got caught), but now that it’s official, he’s not counting anymore.

Now he gets to bypass the windows and waltz right in through the front door.

“Here,” Jensen murmurs, pulling at the ties on his own sweatpants. He yanks them free, arching a little against Jared’s stomach to get them down over his hips, and shimmies them off with a few kicks of his legs. Jared tugs his knee up and wide, and gets in between his legs, kissing Jensen’s mouth as smoothly as he can what with all the words and motion. Jensen rucks his t-shirt up— smells like him when he’s sleeping, Jared _loves_ it— and pulls it over his head. Jared’s still sweaty from his jog. The campus had been completely empty, it being insanely early in the morning on a weekend, and Jared had loped right by McHenry and through [Kresge’s winding ways](http://www.flickr.com/photos/solitude12/4549549089/) on his route to Porter. Aldis is out of town for the weekend and Misha… Well, who _ever_ knows where Misha is, physically or metaphysically? Jared would be worried about the adjoining wall of his and Jensen’s bedrooms, but Misha’s actually the last person he expects flak from, and besides, he’s got other things to distract him at the moment. 

Jensen’s not as early a riser as Jared, but he’s well up now, no pun intended, was even waiting at the main doors and took Jared right into his room as soon as he got inside the apartment. Jensen’s hands are— Jared might feel filthy, but he’s discovering Jensen couldn’t care less about that stuff. It was a nice lesson to learn because Jared’s often sweaty and dirty due to Ultimate.

It turns out Jensen’s kind of into it.

Jared tosses his shirt and shorts off the bed, and Jensen gets Jared and himself in hand and gives Jared the best wake up call he’s gotten in ages.

Jen hasn’t really bottomed for him since their inaugural round. They’ve done other similar stuff, rubbing each other off, hands or bodies on a bed, _this_ … Basically everything but actual penetration. It’s funny, but Jared’s not exactly torn up about it. The part of him that enjoys dramatic plot arcs in Torchwood and Burn Notice, and that one guilty pleasure of a summer with Swingtown, thinks he should be more upset about this, worried he did something wrong, that Jensen isn’t as into this thing as he says he is. But Jared’s not upset. Jensen’s made it pretty clear he enjoyed how he felt when they had sex. Maybe not in wording so direct, but hell, Jared is well aware of how uncomfortable it is to have someone’s… yeah, and how sore a person can get afterward. Even if it _is_ damn good.

No, Jared is definitely more than satisfied. His heart still trips all over itself when he gets near Jensen, when he sees him and especially when he smells him. The sound of acoustic guitar alone is enough to make Jared feel uncomfortable in his jeans or shorts or whatever he’s wearing, no matter who’s playing said guitar. Which might take some explaining if Jensen succeeds in getting Jared to come to Kane’s performance at The Catalyst next Wednesday. But it’s all associative, and Jared has no problem being turned on by the guy he’s…

 _Dating_. Yeah. Makes him smile just thinking the word.

He doesn’t know how he managed to bag a guy as mind-blowing as Jensen Ackles. It’s not just how he looks either. The way Jensen interacts with his friends is sexy. Jensen’s music is sexy, his knowledge of and comfort with it. The way he handles his instruments is the way Jared wants Jensen to handle him: there’s an adoration, a love there— if he’s willing to cop to such a loaded word at this early juncture— that Jared is really, really into. And really, really afraid of, in that same stomach-swooping way he gets on a rollercoaster, just waiting for that instant when his guts drops out from inside him and he knows he’s gone past the point of no return.

God. It hasn’t even been a full month. 

The build today is fast and rough, leaving Jared gasping, but not so distracting that he misses the way Jen’s breath catches against sound in his throat, the way he shudders under Jared, the way his hips hitch and hold, or the way he just sighs, a lengthy rush of energy when it’s all over. Jensen lets himself back down to the bed like he’s been holding a difficult yoga position for hours. His fingers trail heat across Jared’s scalp and his other hand slides continually over and across Jared’s hip. It’s reminiscent enough of the way he touches his guitar strings that Jared has to close his eyes, worried he’s about to get hard again.

“Hey,” Jensen breathes gently against his mouth. He’s smiling, his irises that translucent ocean green Jared first noticed so long ago, the color that caught hold of something in his gut and hasn’t let go since.

“Morning,” Jared whispers back. He kisses Jensen, meaning it to be a peck, but it ends up long and almost as involved as they just were.

Except Jensen pulls back. “Wanna get breakfast?”

They each take a shower, then get dressed and walk back across campus to where Jensen’s car is. Jared’s in one of Jensen’s baggier sweatshirts because his shorts are okay, but his shirt is just nasty and he really didn’t want to pull it back on over clean skin. They drive down the hill, past all the golden grass and the only herd of cows in California that isn’t in Davis, the aromatic eucalyptus trees, and end up downtown at the Noah’s getting toasted bagels and shmears. And an egg mitt each because, really, one bagel? Not nearly enough.

Jensen’s all toasty warm, hard to move away from, and Jared doesn’t even try. He thinks Jensen might be leaning back toward sleep again, the way he’s sagging into Jared like there’s no one else around. Eventually their order is called and Jensen pushes off of Jared. They take their food and walk down [Pacific](http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2675/4098505581_48a8917401.jpg), trying to keep cream cheese from melting all over their fingers.

This, Jared thinks, is what college is supposed to be all about. Not the sex part or the concentration on non-academics, just, feeling comfortable. And alive. Walking down the road on a clear spring day with all your homework done the night before, the smell of the sea coming in and a person you just _get_ walking beside you. No hurry, just a free feeling, anticipation prickling gently and constantly at the bottom of his spine.

Jensen’s stride is an easy lope. The very city of Santa Cruz knows it’s Saturday.

Jen’s a little bowlegged. Jared surprised himself with how damn much that caught his attention. He couldn’t stop _staring_. In retrospect, he’s thankful he first met Jensen Ackles in a darkened kitchen, more worried about the pissed off upperclassman he’d just woken up than about the reality of how good looking the guy might be. He noticed then, sure. Who wouldn’t? But it took time to really process it— those _eyes_ — and Jared spent a whole week with an ache growing in his gut, wondering what the hell was making him feel like he was falling headlong into his first crush all over again—the girl who shared his table in third grade, Piper something-or-other, who had tuggable golden pigtails and smacked him with her My Little Pony backpack for indulging in the stereotype.

And then he finally saw Aldis’ housemate again while over at Aldis’ shooting the shit and getting teased by his older teammates, and the knot in there loosened right to nothing. Just like that. Most amazing, melancholy sensation ever. It’s been tightening and loosening ever since.

Same ache right now, actually, though the flavor of it has been augmented, shifted around into something far more enjoyable.

“You still visiting with your family next weekend?”

That tingle changes to something less energetic. Jared nods. “Yeah. It’s Megan’s birthday. She’s eighteen.”

“Man.” Jensen shakes his head. “Big one.”

“I know.” He gives up, roots through the bag for a napkin. “Wait, how old’s Mac? She’s got a few years yet, right?”

“Yeah. She’s _really_ the baby of the family. Fifteen this year.” They walk for a little while. “How long?” Jensen asks presently. Quietly.

“We have Monday off, and I don’t have class Tuesday, so…” Jared clears his throat.

Jensen nods. Jared’s gut turns a little and he clears his throat again. “But hey. I mean. Not like we can’t talk.”

Jensen bumps into him. “Yeah, how often do you get to see them again, Jared?”

He shrugs, tries to exaggerate, but can’t do it fast enough, and Jensen snorts. 

“Pains of going to school out of state. Believe me, I know.” Jensen sighs a little. “No, they should have you all to themselves. Sisters grow up way too fast. Besides. You can call me every night. I know you get free long distance on that phone.”

Jared frowns. “Long distance?”

Jensen looks at him like one of the light bulbs in his lamp has blinked out. “Yeah, Texas is kind of a ways away.”

He’s lucky they come to a street and Jensen looks around to see if it’s safe to cross. Because there’s the crux, the thing that nearly trips Jared over his own two feet and sprawls him in the middle of the road for the street cleaner to run over: Jared’s not going to Texas next weekend.

His family’s coming to him.

And he’s abruptly too chicken-shit about much bigger things to correct the massive misunderstanding.

**

The thing is, Jared’s still kind of in the closet. 

Not to his friends, or at least, not to his close ones. They all know. It’s hard to keep that kind of thing under his hat when they’re all goggling over busty girls in bikinis on the beach and Jared’s more interested in finding out which sandwich is his in the cooler, and whether or not anyone thought to bring Pepsi instead of just Coke. Also when he’s got such cuties as Sandy McCoy hanging around, obviously _not_ dating him. And then there’s the whole part where the bare skin he does ogle belongs to bodies much more like his own than Sandy’s.

But his parents… don’t exactly know he’s into guys.

In his defense, there’s never been a reason to tell them. Or so Jared has convinced himself. He thinks his mom might actually be very keen to know what was behind that summer he spent jittery and sleep-deprived, mousing around in his room instead of out in the park with his friends and their soccer ball. If he thought he could have sat her down and told her he was technically no longer a virgin because his fellow forward on the soccer team junior year had treated him to an impromptu hand job behind the last row of lockers after they’d won their division, he would have. But there’s no _way_ he could say that to her face and watch it… watch it something. Crumple? Go slack? Twist?

By the time he got the next step further in his sexual explorations, he’d graduated high school and was used to being turned on by pecs and a tight ass instead of a well-endowed bust and a curvy figure.

That had been a difficult summer, too. Jared’s first months at Santa Cruz had been a hell of breakdowns and homesickness. He’s still thankful that Milo was there for him, even if that perception has altered a bit nowadays.

He’s not sure how the fact that his folks are coming to Santa Cruz got missed, but it did. Jensen thinks he’s leaving. The problem is, if Jared tells him differently, Jensen’s going to want to meet them. Jared’s not just being dramatic; Jensen’s already been vocal about wanting to bring Jared home with him for Spring Break. In fact, the reason Jared’s family is coming next weekend is because he’s already made plans to go with Jensen to Richardson. Jared’s break and Megan’s don’t coincide— she attends a year-round high school, the sad, sad little sucker— and they’ve got this month off. Jeff’s already taken time off work, and Jared’s folks are raring to come to California again. Sometimes Jared thinks they just sent him to UCSC so they’d have an excuse to visit Monterey Bay.

Not that he blames them.

But yeah, he’ll be in Richardson with Jensen over break, so his family is visiting him now, and… somehow Jensen and he crossed wires.

He _wants_ to parade Jensen Ackles in front of his parents. God, he adores Jensen so much, he thinks about him all the time, even during Calculus tests. He can’t imagine how he ever got by without Jensen’s presence in his life, feels like everything he’s done was somehow working up to the moment they met. He wants to hold Jensen’s hand, grin crazily at his folks and say things like, _Mom, Dad, this is Jensen, my boyfriend, and I’m in love with him._

But that just makes his stomach hurt worse: how can he really be in love with Jensen if he won’t even tell his parents about them? About himself? Shouldn’t that kind of emotion trump everything? Make all the rest of the potential pain seem insignificant? Shouldn’t he be doing everything in his power to pave the way for this relationship?

He has no idea how his parents would react to news that their son is one of ‘those gays’. Or maybe he does have an idea, specifically from that comment— made by his dad over lunch with an uncle back when Jared was still in middle school— and that’s the problem. The sound of his father’s voice as he said those words somehow got etched into his brain, and he can still hear it perfectly, the intonation, the emphasis, the inflection. It didn’t sound all that derogatory at the time, but having lived in Santa Cruz where it’s the homophobes who risk getting their asses kicked for speaking their minds, Jared’s not sure anymore.

The point is. The mere idea of speaking those words to his parents is one part freeing, three parts terrifying. Subconsciously or not, he’s managed to keep Jensen away from his folks concerning that particular aspect. He knows that unless pushed to look in that direction, his parents will never go there naturally. Megan might. Jeff definitely would, because even if his brother’s not exactly a product of this new omnisexual generation, Jeff’s heard a whole lot more in the way of hints from Jared than their parents have.

Jeff’s been on that beach. Seen him eyeing the more muscular sex. Even if he didn’t think about it then, all it would take is the right facial expression at the right moment, and Jeff would click in like he’d always been there.

Jared’s not sure what his reaction would be either, though.

So they’re all coming here, where it will be interesting enough to walk around downtown experiencing Santa Cruz’s colorful clientele, on edge half the time about the expressions on his parents’ faces. He can’t possibly bring Jensen into the mix _in that way_. His overtaxed little brain might explode.

**

On Sunday, they take Jensen’s car, pick up Sandy and her friend Rachel, and drive around the bay to Monterey to see the aquarium. It would be expensive, but Jared’s mom got him a membership when they found out he’d be going to UCSC. They use the two Padalecki guest passes and everyone splits the fourth ticket, which is an incredible savings, all told.

The aquarium is packed, naturally. Sandy hustles Rachel off to see the otters, and Jared and Jensen wander under all the life-size whale models hanging from the ceiling, past the kelp forest and on through the shark exhibit, Jared bemoaning the recent loss of the Jellyfish Living Art display. There’s a new Great White swimming around with tuna and Mola Molas three times its size in [the outer bay section](http://naturetime.files.wordpress.com/2012/02/monterey-aquarium-tank.jpg), so they sit up on the balcony level and watch that for a while. Jared’s always loved this room: the tank stretches beyond floor to ceiling (there’s another area below where viewers can look up through the bottom) and the entire room is bathed in this deep, rippling blue. It’s very dark, and the music coming through the speakers is otherworldly. Even with all the people, all the voices, it feels secluded. Jared could sit here for hours. He has done that, actually, once years ago when he got sick while his family was driving around California, and all he could do was lie down on the carpet and stare at the fish while his stomach twinged from the leftovers of a hellish flu.

This time, Jensen slides a hand into his and they lean together with fingers linked, watching the hammerheads and sea turtles and rays and enormous fish swim round and round and round.

“Can you imagine running into one of those tuna in the middle of the ocean?” Jensen murmurs. “I think I’d die of fright.”

Standing up, Jared would still barely reach from fin-tip to fin-tip on the biggest tuna in there. He wholeheartedly agrees.

Eventually they collect Sandy and Rachel and head out to hit up the Ghirardelli store for samples, and then on to the best clam chowder Jared’s ever had along the piers. Sandy revs up her camera to take pictures of the otters floating around in the kelp beds. They drive down the coast toward [Asilomar](http://www.glarsonphoto.com/Travel/Monterey-Bay-California/Monterey-024/813581068_2khPJ-L-3.jpg) and find a stretch of tide pools. Jared hits a step wrong while jumping from rock to rock and ends up knee-deep in a pool. After Jensen laughs about it for a minute, he reaches down and helps Jared out.

Sandy is still laughing. If Jared finds that photo of himself soaked in salt water all over Facebook, he’s… well, he’ll probably frown at her.

They get back to Santa Cruz around seven and get burgers, and then Jensen drives them all home. He saves Jared for last and they stand out in the circle at Stevenson for about half an hour kissing each other goodnight.

**

On Wednesday night, just as Jared is opening his dorm room after Ultimate practice, his landline rings. He gets inside, dumps his muddy shoes and shirt at the door, and picks up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, honey, it’s your mom!”

“Oh, hey, Mom.” No one else is back from class yet. Jared shucks his shorts awkwardly with one hand, holding the phone to his ear with the other, and rummages through his clean laundry basket in just his boxers.

“Oh, _hey_ ,” she needles, and Jared winces. But she’s already on to the next thing. “Did I catch you at a bad time? You probably have a lot of homework.”

He does, but it’s not due till Friday. “No, it’s okay, I can talk. I just got back from practice.”

“How was it?”

“Muddy. It’s still rainy here.” He finally finds pajama pants and hops around pulling them over each foot. “How’s Texas?”

“Hot. Your sister had her first swim meet today. She came in second in the five hundred free.”

“That’s awesome! Is she there?”

“No, she’s over at Connie’s. I think they went to ice cream.”

“Well, tell her congratulations for me.” He’ll have to spam her Facebook page. Probably with pictures of half-clothed Olympic medalists.

“I will,” his mom says. “Listen, I just wanted to touch base with you about when we’ll be arriving next Friday. We’re renting a car in San Jose and if the plane is on time, we should be over the hill by five PM. Will that be alright with your schedule?”

“Yeah, my last class ends at three.”

“Okay. Don’t eat anything, if you can help it, and we’ll take you out to dinner.”

Already Jared’s mind is wandering off the beaten path, reminding him that he has a reason to feel nauseated. “Um. Which hotel are you staying at?”

“The Best Western on Plymouth Street. We have two rooms.”

“Oh, Jeff and Megan must love that.”

“There has been screaming,” his mother allows with a sigh. “But anyway. After that, we can do whatever you like, whatever you want to show us.”

Jared swallows. He can hear the smile in her voice, picture the light in her eyes. “That sounds great, Mom.”

“Good! Well, think about it, make a list. We’ll provide transportation.”

“Okay.” He tries to sound chipper, and figures he’s managed it by the fact that she hasn’t commented. His mother tends to be very perceptive, especially to his moods. Even a phone conversation is not entirely safe.

“Now, honey, I know I’m about to sound like an old fuddy-duddy, but I’d really like to meet this young man you’re going to visit over Spring Break. Do you think that will be possible while we’re there?”

Jared bites the inside of his cheek so hard he nearly squeaks. “Uh, I don’t know. I can ask him. He might be… busy.”

“Okay. I know you guys have demanding schedules. You can tell him he’s invited to dinner one of the nights, if that helps. Thank you, sweety.”

Jared nods, forgetting she can’t see him.

“Alright. It’s really late over here and I have to get to bed. I have a class of bright-eyed misfits to corral in the morning, so I’ll let you go.”

“Okay. Thanks for calling, Mom.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” Her voice goes very warm. “We can’t wait to see you.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, honey.”

Jared holds the phone in his hand for so long the disconnected signal ends up blaring him back into motion. He slams it down in its cradle a little too hard, anxious to cut off the noise. Thank goodness his roommates are both out. 

And also, damn the fact: Jared suddenly feels the need of a conversation with his closest friend. 

**

He doesn’t get to speak to Chad about it until Sunday, though. Between his classes, Chad’s classes, Chad’s party plans, and the Ultimate game against Berkeley on Saturday, Jared can’t find more than ten minutes to devote to thought, let alone overwhelming conversation topics.

Okay, so maybe he also throws up a few roadblocks, such as heading to town with the team after Friday night’s practice, and trading his usual two hours between classes on Thursday to go catch Jensen outside _his_ class instead. They spend the time getting sandwiches by the bookstore and then making out on one of the couches in the [Student Union](http://sunsite.berkeley.edu/uchistory/archives_exhibits/campus_planning/atkinson_archive/ucsc/photos/UCSC_7_rf.jpg) (nobody’s ever there on Thursday afternoons). By the time they clear off, Jensen to his apartment and Jared to College Nine, Jared’s zinging with arousal and two seconds away from ditching class to go put a much more satisfying cap on their activities.

Jensen departs with heavily flushed lips, a slightly unfocused haze in his eyes, and finally, a wide smile.

“Come over after,” he murmurs, still tugging fitfully at Jared’s shirt collar. It’s really not helping Jared’s resolve. If Jensen would just let go of him, maybe he’d actually stand a chance of not failing Philosophy this quarter.

“Oh, screw it,” he says, nosing back into a kiss and making it good. “I’ll come over now.”

Jensen whimpers a little, and finally yanks himself away. “No. Class. Then my room.”

It’s the most useless hour and a half Jared can remember spending. He doesn’t retain a thing, and Aldis, who is TAing the class, keeps looking at him like he’s suddenly become a Romero zombie. Jared almost loses his resolve and cuts out during the break, but Aldis comes over to poke him and find out if he’s actually still alive. 

When they both end up disembarking at the same bus stop after class is over, Aldis starts laughing.

“Well, damn, kid. I should have guessed.”

“Shut up, Aldis.”

Aldis smacks his head, but holds the door to the building open for him when they reach it. Once they’re inside the actual apartment, he goes into his room whistling. A few seconds later, music cranks up, and Jared flushes bright red, just in time for Jensen to exit the kitchen with a glass of water, wearing jeans and a thin white tank.

“What?”

Jared shakes his head. “Uh, is everyone home?”

Jensen shrugs. “Probably. I have this new theory that Misha rappels in and out of his window.”

It doesn’t matter anymore; just being in Jensen’s proximity has all the feelings he tried to leave on the Student Union couch strafing back in. He keeps it together long enough to let Jensen finish his glass of water— the drinking of which is a nice sight— and follow him into his room. The door shuts and he gets manhandled down onto the bed so fast he starts laughing in relief.

 _“What?”_ Jensen demands again.

“Just extremely glad we’re in the same headspace,” he manages before pulling Jensen down on top of him. 

Jensen pulls his shirt and jeans off fast enough to tear some stitches, but Jared can’t be sure because he’s got Jensen’s clothing to think about. And then they’re naked except for Jensen’s white undershirt which only gets shoved up and out of the way for Jared’s mouth. Jared hitches Jensen up against the wall and gets two fingers in him, courtesy of the lube Jensen already had out on the bedspread. Jensen’s hand snaps tight around his bicep, fingers digging in, mouth open and head tossed back, his other hand down between them but hardly moving, as if he forgot it was there. Jared doesn’t mind: his brain is full of Jensen looking like this, sweat beginning to curl the hair at his temples, throat visibly working, hips undulating in tiny thrusts against his. The friction is enough to get Jared riled up, walking the edge for what feels like a much longer time than it probably is. He pulls Jensen’s leg up, gets a better, deeper angle with his fingers, cants his own hips, and _there_ , there it fucking is, they’re going to— to—

It’s not simultaneous, but it’s as close as they’ve ever gotten. Jared collapses onto Jensen, flattening him to the wall while he tries to breathe. He remembers Jensen making sounds, likely louder than either of them is comfortable with, living in multi-person households, but he doesn’t really care at the moment. He probably made a nuisance of himself, too, and it was absolutely worth it. He’ll do it again in a few minutes, doesn’t matter who hears.

Eventually he gets himself off of his boyfriend and falls onto the mattress proper, Jensen sliding down under him like he’s been running Jared’s morning route. Jared blinks at the wall, feeling lightheaded, and too over-stimulated where they’re still touching.

“Stay the night?” Jensen gasps, chest heaving, still coming down. His hand is still trembling, still wrapped around Jared. Still sending jolts of sensation that Jared is having trouble coping with.

“Cl…” He swallows, finds Jensen’s wrist, and helps him still his hand’s unintentional motion. “Class in the morning.”

Jensen makes a weak noise, then rolls Jared over, pushes his shoulders flat to the bed, and slings a leg over his hips. He eases down into place again, fitting them together, making Jared shiver and groan, and catches his mouth in a heavy kiss. 

“Stay. Only get you for less than a week now.”

The niggling starts up again, but the well-placed roll of Jensen’s hips sends it flying in pieces, all different directions.

**

After the game and the second trip to town to celebrate their victory Saturday night, Jared has one round of deep, dreamless sleep before his reality creeps up and slams down around him. He wakes up Sunday morning with a case of nerves a mile wide. The thought of eating makes him feel even sicker, and in the end, the only way he can wait for Chad to roll his ass out of bed is to go for a harder, longer run than ever. He gets all the way down to the base of campus and back up again before he’s done, but besides the immediate exhaustion, he feels even more wired than before. 

Luckily, Chad’s awake and alert when he gets out of his shower.

“Come on,” he says, barely into his clothing with the ends of his hair still dripping. “We’re going for breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” Chad scoffs. “Dude, it’s almost one.”

So it is. That doesn’t affect the way Jared yanks Chad out of the room and down to the dining hall.

Chad scarfs breakfast and lunch food without distinction, and doesn’t comment on Jared’s lack of similar piggishness until they’re out again, on their way back to the dorm.

“You sick or something?”

“No.” Yeah. Semantics. 

“Huh.” Chad peers at him for another second, then shrugs. “Weird to see you, man.”

“What?”

“It’s Sunday. You’re never here on Sundays. Where the hell do you go, anyway? Downtown?”

“Uh, no. I go over to Jensen’s.” When Chad looks at him like he’s speaking Dutch, Jared clarifies. “Aldis’ place?”

“Ah, yeah.” Chad stops walking suddenly and smacks him on the shoulder. “And you never invite me. You guys are dicks.”

“I don’t go to see Aldis,” Jared says, a little testily. He makes himself pause, collects himself. “I go to see Jensen.”

“Oh, okay. Every Sunday?”

He’s always thought Chad chooses to be a little dense, but honestly, this one’s also Jared’s fault. He just wishes he’d remembered that Chad doesn’t always focus on between-the-lines stuff, and prepped him for this conversation _before_ he needed his help sorting through more complicated messes. “Yeah. Dude, come on. You know I spend nights there.”

“Yeah, I know,” Chad says, maddeningly coherent again. “Just didn’t know it was _scheduled_.”

Jared stops. “Chad. It’s not scheduled. It’s— ah, forget it.”

“Nah, I get it. You have the hots for Jensen. Pretty fucking obvious when you don’t hide it, oh, ever.”

Jared rolls his eyes. “What good would hiding it do?”

“You’re right, it wouldn’t get you anything. Better to make it known, and then, you know. Things happen.”

“Yeah.” Or something. Whatever. Chad-speak is tricky.

“He’s pretty hot.” Chad returns Jared’s wide eyes with a frown. “What? I can recognize when another guy is good-looking. Doesn’t mean I want to nail him.”

Jared nods and looks forward again. “Good.”

“But seriously, that’s a pretty good deal, man. A system. Way to go.”

It’s Jared’s turn to frown. “What do you mean?”

Chad’s grin is downright lewd. “Getting that a couple times a week is totally worth it.”

Jared hadn’t wanted to think about it— it gives him another bad kink in his gut whenever he does— but he realizes he hasn’t cleared one very important thing up. “Chad—”

“No, I said he’s hot and he is, if you like that sort of thing. And you do. And you know guys, it’s not like you have to get all conversational with him about it before you do it.”

 _“Chad.”_ Jared yanks his friend to a stop and wheels him around until they are facing each other. “I’m not just—” He realizes just in time that he’s almost shouting, and lowers his voice to a whisper. “Just… _fucking_ Jensen.” It sounds so filthy. Makes him want to apologize to Jensen and Jen’s not even here. “I’m… We’re together. Like, together.”

“Wait. You’re dating him?” Chad’s face screws up even tighter, like he’s smelled something off. B.O. or something, and for a split second, Jared wonders. “I thought you didn’t like artists!”

Jared sighs heavily and pulls Chad even further out of the flow of people. “I like _Jensen_ ,” he says. “And… I don’t not like artists, okay?”

“But you—”

“Yeah, I used to be an ass about it! I know!” He’s shouting again. Fuckity fuck. Jared can feel his face turning red. “Look, they’re— I was doing what we were accusing them of doing. Thinking they’re all better than us. Jen’s not like that.”

 _“Jen?”_ Chad gets in, making Jared flush even more.

“Yes,” he states, meeting Chad’s eyes as resignedly as he can.

But Chad just raises his hands in front of him. “Okay, okay. Chill out. I didn’t say he was a bad guy, I just thought…” Chad huffs a little, then looks at Jared again. “He’s cool. Cooler than most. Wait, are you guys really going out?”

Jared doesn’t think his face will ever return to its normal color again. “Yeah. We are.” Dinner and coffee and everything. And sex, really good sex, but— that’s not the point. Jared doesn’t think it was ever the point.

Chad just starts to look weirded out, but that’s pretty close to his normal state, so maybe Jared shouldn’t overanalyze. “How long?”

Jared wants to shrug and forces it down. It takes a lot more effort than he expected. “Almost a month?”

“Holy shit!”

“Chad, shut up!”

“Wait, so those times he came over and you both were fidgety like you—”

Sometimes it’s just easier to slap a hand over Chad’s mouth. Jared has utilized this tactic often enough to be entirely comfortable with being licked and slobbered on as a result. And he has really big hands anyway, so he never misses. “Dude, I do _not_ comment about the mess your bed is after weekends when I’m out of town. Please don’t start.”

Chad claws his hand away from his face. “You’ve never banged him in _my_ bed, have you?”

Jared turns around and walks away.

“Wait. Wait, Jare, fuck, _stop_ , alright? I’m sorry.”

Jared wheels around on him, and Chad practically smacks into his chest. “Look,” Jared hisses, “I don’t ‘bang’ Jen, get it? He’s my boyfriend and I don’t have to explain it to you!”

Chad’s eyes go wide. He lays a hand on Jared’s chest and pushes him back, just a tiny bit of pressure. “Whoa. No, you don’t have to explain it to me. You never have, I thought we were— What the fuck?”

Jared takes a breath and discovers he’s winded. His lungs feel like they’re not expanding to their full capacity. He wavers on his feet and Chad grabs his arm.

“Dude.”

“No, I’m… I’m okay.”

“Yeah?” Chad looks like the next words out of his mouth will be something about pants on fire.

“Yeah, really.” It’s not as hard to breathe this time. “You can let go of me now.”

“Are you hyperventilating or something? Did I make you hyperventilate?”

 _“No.”_ He’s going to be completely gray by age twenty-five if he keeps hanging out with Chad. And he’ll probably be a liar, too, because eventually Chad will make him have a legitimate anxiety attack and he’ll flop around in the street until someone calls an ambulance or dumps a bunch of water on him or something.

“Look, it’s totally cool,” Chad says, then raises his hands quickly between them again. “Not that you need my permission or approval or whatever. Just… Calm down. I got it wrong.” 

Yeah, because Jared never told him. Because Jared obviously plays things too close to his chest. Because Jared’s a wimp who would rather not open up boxes of potential snakes than address an issue appropriately and get it all squared away. He’s… having a little trouble controlling his pulse rate again.

“I should have told you. I’m sorry. I should have said something.”

Chad shakes his head. “No, it’s not my business. Believe me, I am aware of that, even though I never really put it into practice. Boundaries. Personal space. I got it.”

“I haven’t told my folks,” Jared says in a rush, almost like breathing out a poison that’s filling his lungs.

“You haven’t told them you’re dating Jensen?”

“No… I mean I haven’t told them anything.” He stares at Chad helplessly. “They don’t even know I’m gay.”

Chad blinks. Blinks some more, and finally looks down. “Well, shit, Jare.”

Oh, god, doesn’t he have somewhere else he needs to be right now? Jared staggers back, sits down with a thump, and is extremely glad there’s a set of stairs there where he remembered them being. He can’t even think about going anywhere, can’t do math, can’t worry about homework or missing test prep or his grade dropping because it’s a damn quarter system and they practically have finals due the week they start. Jared covers his face with his hands.

After a minute, he feels Chad sit down beside him.

“Hey.” Chad rubs at his arm. “Well… they’re visiting next weekend, right? You could tell them then.”

No, no, no. “Oh god,” Jared croaks. He doesn’t think he’s about to cry, but he has no idea what’s going on with his face anymore, he’s just covering it up like an ostrich. No, he’s not about to cry. He’s just panicking. “Oh god.”

“Dude.”

“No, you don’t get it.” Jared spins to face Chad, catching him unawares and making him jerk back. “They’re _coming here_.”

“Yeah. I know.”

And now it’s all coming out, like someone released the lever on the dam before a big storm. “Jensen doesn’t know they don’t know, and I don’t know how to tell him! He’s probably going to hate me.”

“Uh, why on earth would he hate you? Did you lie to him about it or something?”

“No.” Yes. But. Not about _that_.

Chad spreads his hands, looks at Jared like he’s misplaced a crucial lobe of his brain, and Jared sighs. 

“Look, Jen’s so open. With everyone. He wasn’t afraid of coming out to his family, all his friends know, he’s dated other guys openly! He’s light-years beyond me in this! And he’s already told me all this stuff, we talked about it, or he has, and now he’s gonna look at me and…” He trails off, helpless in the face of possible horrors.

“And know you haven’t officially come out yet?” Chad finishes.

Jared eyes him. “I hate you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Chad rolls his eyes. “ _Dude._ Man, if you were just fucking him, I’d say you maybe had cause to worry, though that’s doubtful. I mean, guys who want to screw around don’t really want to do it with people who are totally uptight about shit. You two could be just getting it on for kicks, blowing each other behind closed doors and not caring about all your drama or—”

“Chad.”

“What I’m saying is, you’re not!” Chad cuts back in. “You’re dating or whatever. Obviously he cares about what happens to you! If you were just screwing each other, he’d probably laugh at you when you told him. But you’re not just screwing, right?”

Jared glares.

“Right,” Chad concludes. “So if you talk it over, he’ll understand. He’ll probably get all sappy about it and write a song because he’s an ar _tiste_ like that.”

“Chad, shut up.” Jared’s definitely never going to stop blushing.

“Dude, I can’t believe you’re all monogamous now.”

Jared gapes at him again. “I was never not monogamous!”

“Yeah, but you are now!”

“You know, sometimes you make absolutely no sense.”

“But sometimes I really do.”

As much as he doesn’t want to admit it… “Yeah.”

“Okay, so. Here’s my wisdom. Breathe it in, young man.” He shuts his eyes and waves his arms in what he probably thinks is an all-knowing yogi-on-high way. Jared has to duck. “Ohhhhhhmmmmm. Just explain it to Jensen. He won’t have a problem with it. Well, he might miss you for a weekend— god knows all the sex you guys regularly have on weekends, it’ll probably be like withdrawal— Ouch! Stop hitting me. _But_. He’ll get that you need to hang out with your family for a few days, and if you don’t end up coming out to your folks, it’s all good and you can catch him on the flipside. Problem solved.” Chad shrugs.

But there’s still that one teeny tiny little issue. “Jensen thinks I’m going to Texas this weekend.”

_“What?”_

**

It takes a while. And a lot of random epithets and more waving of arms from Chad, a few rounds of which hit Jared. He figures he deserves it. But he does finally get Chad to shut up for long enough to explain his fucked up system of logic. Since Chad recognizes it as fucked up, Jared figures he probably should have been aware for a long time now.

But all in all, Chad is ultimately helpful. The homework assignment he sets for Jared, however, is fairly scary, if not completely expected.

On Monday, Jared needs to tell Jensen.

His only class is before noon, because some really intelligent individual thought it would be a great idea to schedule a course featuring complex mathematical derivations for eight in the morning. Luckily Jared’s well awake from his run, and usually expends half his energy being amused by the glassy looks on his classmates’ faces. Today, he can only think about his own non-mathematical problems, and drafts what he’s going to say over and over in his mind in every which-way right up until class ends.

Then he gets to wait for Jensen’s ten o’clock guitar workshop to end. Ergo, he stews until it’s time to catch the bus over to Porter to meet up with his boyfriend.

He catches Jensen coming out of [The Hungry Slug](http://s3-media2.ak.yelpcdn.com/bphoto/K7DRJs0G9Za5ufYPMN0JnA/l.jpg), sunglasses on, his guitar slung over his shoulder by its case strap. The shirt he’s wearing clings in all the right places and bags in all the others, baring a little more of his throat than Jensen would like, Jared’s sure. It’s enough to make Jared’s pulse start thrumming. That and Jensen’s ever-present freckles. God, Jared just wants to kiss them, push Jensen down on the grass right over there and press his lips to each and every one. It’ll take as long as it takes.

“Hey,” Jen says, a half-smile cocking his mouth. He’s got a takeout bag in his other hand and Jared knows there’s a Thai chicken wrap in it. Jensen eats about four of those a week. It’s a wonder he doesn’t gain weight faster. Jared would think he did in fact play a sport regularly.

“Hey.” Jared leans in and busses Jen’s cheek. Never fails to get a blush out of that fair skin; yeah, Jared is already completely attached to the idea of freckles. Or… maybe just Jensen’s freckles. Whatever. “You have another class?”

“Nope, done for the day. Thank god.” Jensen pats his guitar case. It was a gift from his brother, Jared remembers the first time he opened it, in his shorts on Jensen’s bed while Jensen explained all the pockets and nooks and tried not to be embarrassed by the fact that he was still mostly naked. “I’m allowed to play a little again, so I thought I’d give it a go.”

Jensen reaches up to adjust his sunglasses, and Jared catches the scar on his inner arm. The stitches are out, the line cleanly healed, but Jared remembers that cut, all the blood, the way Jensen had just… _collapsed_. Also, in perfect clarity, the way he himself had grabbed Jensen up and shouted Aldis into absolute terror ordering him to drive them to the hospital _now_. Probably should have called an ambulance, but who knew how long it would have taken them to get up on campus, and—

“Jare.”

“Sorry.” Jared shakes his head. “Sorry, I was… So you’re allowed to play again?”

Jensen’s smile returns. “Yeah. Not much, just about twenty minutes. Man, it’s a _really_ nice day.” He gestures around the courtyard with his lunch bag, at all the students kicked back snoozing in the sun, reading on the steps, talking to their friends. 

It really is a nice day. Too bad Jared’s stomach is all awhirl. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” Jensen repeats, grinning wider. He turns toward the lawn, then checks himself. “Well, wait a minute. You called me. Something up?”

Jared nudges at a stick on the ground with his shoe. “Yeah. Uh. So, I’ve been kind of weird lately. I have a confession to make.”

Jen raises his eyebrows. Jared wishes he could see his eyes. “What kind of confession?” Jensen asks slowly. He’s always got such a reserved tone of voice. Usually Jared loves the contradiction of it, especially set next to his prowess on the guitar or piano. When he first went down on Jared, the way he asked if it was alright made Jared worry a little for his, erm, livelihood. And then Jared had experienced the most mind-blowing orgasm he could recall.

Right now, though, Jared doesn’t want to hear that tone. It usually means Jensen’s worrying. “It’s not a bad one,” he hurries to reassure, but he’s pretty certain it doesn’t have the right effect: now Jensen’s stopped in the middle of the patio and is just staring at him. Jared sighs, takes Jen’s hand. “Come with me. I don’t want to talk about it here.”

They go to the [Squiggle](http://www.flickr.com/photos/sa_skylark/2077651058/lightbox/). Jared’s found enough condoms on the grass, and on the sculpture itself, to know that many a Banana Slug has lost it on this weirdly shaped… thing. He never has, personally, and the more condoms he sees, the less likely that is to happen. But down the hill, there’s a nice view of the bay, usually, and the sun’s scudding through clouds, so it’s not too hot. He takes Jensen’s bag from him and sits down on the grass, looking up until Jensen folds his legs under himself and joins him.

“Yeah?” Jen rubs his forehead and finally takes off his glasses. Jared sighs a little.

“Hey. Don’t look that way, I’m not… This isn’t anything bad.”

He can see Jensen visibly trying to straighten out his expression. It’s a little cute, except Jensen’s obvious discomfort is ruining the moment for him.

Jensen sticks his hand into the bag and shuffles around a little. “Okay. What is it, then?”

“This is going to sound really stupid,” Jared states. He already knows this for a fact. “I kind of… didn’t tell you that my parents are actually coming here. On Friday.”

Jensen blinks. Takes his wrap out of the bag but doesn’t unwrap it, just sets it down in his lap with a thump. “What?”

Jared sighs again and scratches his head. “I’m not going home. They’re—”

“Yeah, I heard you.” It’s really hard to read Jensen’s voice. Or maybe Jared’s just desperate not to hear anything in it. “Why didn’t you say?”

Why _didn’t_ he? It’s funny how reasons seem so… reasonable, when they’re still vague and not spoken aloud. Once you try to contain them inside a sound, they start bulging out at all the wrong places or just sounding saggy and stupid.

“Okay, so the thing is, I’m not really out to them.” Jensen doesn’t answer, so Jared plunges on, anxious not to extend such a profound silence. “I mean, I’m _out_ , here. But not there. My family doesn’t. Doesn’t know I like guys.”

“Okay.” Jensen’s picking at his lip, or maybe on his way to chewing on a fingernail. Either way, his finger is pressed against his lip to the first knuckle, kind of stroking in little circles. “Uh… So they don’t know we’re.”

“Nope.” Jared shakes his head, says the word too sharply.

“Do they know about me at all?”

Jared frowns at him, and Jensen gives this little jerk of his chin. “Oh— well, duh, yeah, Spring Break. But.”

This time Jared’s head almost feels too heavy to nod. “Yeah.”

“And…” Jensen’s definitely feeling his way around his words now, and there’s definitely something to read in his _tone_. Still, Jared tries not to. “What were you going to do while they were here, just, I don’t know. Ignore me? Call me from Texas?” He puts the last word in air quotes and Jared winces.

“I didn’t have any kind of plan. Honestly.” He’s immensely glad he can say this truthfully. It’s one thing to be a doof, another to be premeditated about it. Jared shrugs, helpless, and lifts his hands. Slaps them down again on his thighs and rubs. “I don’t think I would have lasted until they got here. Just didn’t know what to say to you.”

“How about ‘I don’t want you to meet my parents’?”

Jared gapes at him, mouth open. “I do want you to meet them!”

Jensen sighs. “Jared—”

 _“No,”_ he snaps. “That’s the whole thing, Jensen. I want you to meet them. I want to tell them we’re together. I’m— God, they’re going to guess something’s up, that’s just the way I am! I can’t hide anything worth shit, you know that, Jen. And if you can see through it, just think how people who’ve known me my whole life are.”

Jensen does look as if he’s considering it. He takes his hand away from his mouth and settles it on his wrap again. Looks out over the vista and scrunches his brow a little. “Would they…” He turns back to Jared. “Are they going to be bad about it?”

He sounds so dour. Jared takes his time now, and considers. “I don’t know.” His voice cracks.

Jensen’s hand immediately slides around his wrist. “Jared, I’m sorry,” he says, quickly. “I didn’t mean to make this about me.”

“No, it is about you. It’s about both of us. I just—” He didn’t think he’d cry over this, or even get a little prickly-eyed. But he _is_. He’d like to blame it on the salt air. He sniffs hard, makes a fairly unflattering noise, and presses his fingertips against his eyelids. The lump rises in his throat and makes it impossible to swallow.

“I guess it’s just here,” he says when he can speak steadily again. “I wasn’t ready for it.”

Jensen doesn’t say anything. He just sits there holding Jared’s hand, gazing out over the bay. Jared feels a little looser, like telling it is half the battle. Almost like he’s told his parents already somehow just by confessing to Jensen. He knows it’s not true, but it feels nice.

“If you want to—” Jensen wets his lips, looks down at their hands, then back up into Jared’s eyes. “If you want to tell them, I’ll go with you. Be there.”

It means a hell of a lot, even if Jared is already set on not telling them this time around. He squeezes Jensen’s fingers, wondering when he’s going to have his voice back. Jensen grips his hand in return. 

“Or I don’t have to be. Whatever makes it easier for you.”

Jared leans forward, pulls Jensen in, and kisses him full on the mouth. Not a peck, not the cheek buss, but an out-and-out kiss, tongue included. Jensen makes a tiny surprised sound, stiff for an instant, then folding into it, leaning in and taking Jared’s face in his hand. He tilts Jared’s head and deepens the kiss. Slows it down. Starts unthreading all the knots in Jared’s chest.

“I don’t think I can do it this weekend,” he says when at last they part. He sighs, dropping his head, incidentally right onto Jensen’s shoulder. “I don’t think I’m ready.”

“You know that’s okay, right?”

Jared lifts his head again. “Is it?” He really wants to know, because he’s not sure. Now that he’s arguing a side, he feels like he should be arguing the other one, like the other one matters more, like it shouldn’t matter at all what his parents think if he really wants to be with Jensen. But it does matter what they think, it matters a lot, and Jared feels caught between two battering waves, neither of which is giving an inch.

Jensen nods. “Yeah. It is. You don’t have to tell anyone before you’re ready.”

“But you want me to.”

“Well…” Jensen exhales. Shakes his head. “Look, Jared, I’m not in your situation. I don’t have your family. You do. You have to decide what to do about them, and this. I’m not saying— I’m not saying my situation was better or anything, or that my parents are more understanding. The fact is that I was ready to tell them. You obviously aren’t, look at you.”

Jared wonders what Jensen’s seeing, exactly. Probably white skin, eye smudges. Lines where they shouldn’t be. He extricates his hand from Jensen’s and covers his face again. “I feel like such a loser.”

Jensen doesn’t say anything for a minute. Then— “Look at who you’ve already told. Your friends… me… You’ve already done a lot, Jared.”

“Yeah, but I’m being a jerk _to you_. I mean, I couldn’t even tell you that—”

“Uh, you just did.”

Jared looks up and finds Jensen very close, trying to catch his gaze. “What?”

“You just told me all of it.”

“I…” Well, yeah. But he wasn’t going to. Or… “Yeah. I did.”

“Yeah.”

Jared struggles for the thread again and ends up waving his arms. “But I wasn’t— I’m obviously not the kind of person who would tell— I mean, I should’ve just told you from the beginning.”

Jensen shrugs one shoulder. “Yeah, maybe. But you told me now. So you’re the kind of person who would tell me.”

It’s logical. Still feels like Jensen’s overlooking the whole part where Jared lollygagged around not saying anything and hoping it would go away. But it didn’t go away, so he opened his mouth instead. “Okay. Okay.”

He waits till he has Jensen’s full attention again. “I’m still sorry, Jen.”

Jensen’s smile creeps gently across his face, lighting his eyes, changing every single feature. He leans in and bumps his nose to Jared’s. “Don’t be.”

Maybe— Maybe he _can_ bring Jensen to dinner one of the nights with his family. Introduce everyone, get all the supports in place and start to build to the moment he finally does get up the nerve and really introduces Jensen for who he is and where he fits in Jared’s life. A hundred plans start weaving through Jared’s head, farfetched as well as totally realistic, and all the while, Jensen’s hand is warm in his.

“Thanks,” he mutters.

Jensen moves a little. “You’re welcome.” Jared feels a touch to his cheek, the slide of a fingertip. 

They sit for a while, not speaking, just enjoying the breeze. Down the hill, some class gets out at College Eight and a whole mess of students start wandering out through the main arch toward the bus stop. On the tennis courts, two girls in shorts and sports tops smack a ball back and forth.

“So.” Jensen draws it out a little, chewing on his lip. His eyes dart up. “I have you for the rest of the week.”

“Till Friday,” Jared says, wondering where Jensen’s going with—

Oh.

 _Oh._

Wow, Jensen’s eyes are really expressive. And suggestive, damn it. Jared shifts uncomfortably.

Jensen reaches again and curls their fingers together. He shuffles a little closer, until he can drag Jared’s hand into his lap. Nothing overt, just sitting there against the warmth of Jensen’s thigh, but— yeah, the underlying insinuation is plenty clear.

“Wanna hang out?”

Jared swallows. What he wants to do is kiss Jensen, push him back onto the grass and crawl on top of him and come out loud and clear to everyone at Porter College, the rate his body’s going. Instead, Jared clears his throat and, in desperate need of a distraction, points down at Jensen’s wrap, lying forgotten on his ankle. “You gonna eat that?” He manages not to sound like a chipmunk.

Jensen laughs. He reaches into the bag, pulls out a second wrap, and tosses it to Jared. “I bought two.”

Jared kisses him.

~fin~


End file.
